


Incursion

by AcronymAcrobat



Category: RWBY
Genre: Cross-Posted on FanFiction.Net, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-28
Updated: 2017-02-08
Packaged: 2018-05-29 15:06:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 12,698
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6381178
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AcronymAcrobat/pseuds/AcronymAcrobat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A young man making his way through life inexplicably finds himself trapped in the high fantasy world of RWBY. But there are dark forces conspiring behind the scenes that threaten Remnant and Earth, and he has only one option: stand and fight, or die trying.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, everyone, and welcome to the newly rewritten Incursion. Since this site is where I originally posted the fic, I decided to bring it back here. This edited version attempts to address some plot holes and logical problems present in the first fic, while transitioning the overall tone to one better suited for the planned sequel.
> 
> If you happened to be a fan of the original fic, you may notice that the first chapters are very similar and haven't seen incredibly drastic changes. Things begin to change later on, so do give this newer version a shot if you want.
> 
> As always, feel free to leave a comment with questions, critiques, or anything else you want to say. I'll try to give you a decent reply as soon as possible.
> 
> Special thanks to Recycler, my beta reader and good friend.

  
I awoke to a startlingly intense beam of UV radiation blasting through my window, and winced as my retinae screamed like a woman in labor. It was an average day in the beautiful state of Alabama, the raging pustule of the United States where the humidity is so insanely high that your skin turns into a slip n' slide the moment you dare to enter the steamy hell known as "outside."

Attempting to not drown in my own sweat, I rolled to the other side of the bed and glanced at my clock. The gleaming red lights read "7:30 AM, Friday." A shudder shot through me as I came to terms with the fact that school started in exactly twenty minutes. I sprinted to the kitchen to pour a glass of orange juice when I saw a note taped to the refrigerator.

_"I've got training this weekend, so the house is yours. Don't burn the place down. BTW, I drank all the OJ." -Richard_

"Dick," I said with a chuckle as I took the note down. My older brother and sole housemate, Richard, was enlisted in the U.S. Army Reserve, so I had the house to myself one weekend a month. We had been on our own since our mom and dad died in a car accident sixteen years ago. Luckily, we had our grandmother to take us in and raise us until Richard and I moved out. It wasn't ever the same in the family, but we got by.

I showered in two minutes flat and rushed into the nerd lair known as my bedroom. Neon Genesis Evangelion figures adorned the shelves and looked nearly cool enough to make me forget my status as a piece of weeaboo trash. Alongside my potentially cringeworthy merchandise, the room was complete with a collection of classic consoles, a beastly jet engine PC, and enough Doritos to feed a family of four for a week or so. I yanked a pair of tan cargo pants and a t-shirt with the insignia of AMD out of the closet and donned the attire before looking at myself in the mirror.

"Oh my, Aaron Carlyle, the females will not be able to resist your rapier wit and stunning good looks," I said to the reflection as I swept my brown hair to one side and attempted to make myself look presentable. I had the muscle tone of a wet noodle, and being over six feet tall didn't help my appearance in that regard. A bowl of Lucky Charms and three absolutely sick rolls over the living room furniture later, I leapt into my car and floored it out of the driveway.

This car was a great way to empty the wallet, and I was absolutely delighted that I made a Saudi prince smile every time I turned the key. I nearly flipped the car after a hard right turn that would impress Speed Racer, and sped down the parkway to my high school. As ashamed as I was of being a "Southern Boy," I was grateful for actually having paved roads and not being absolutely uncouth like many of my brethren.

I swerved into the parking lot of my beloved education establishment, Grandview High School. The view was only grand to the blind, and even that was up for debate. I felt the stinging pain of physical exertion as I ran into the building, and could barely stand by the time I made it to homeroom.

"Exhausted, Mister Carlyle?" asked my homeroom teacher, Mr. Wexler.

As the lone engineering teacher in school, Wexler naturally attracted the "nerd herd," and his intellect was still formidable despite his advanced age.

That and he literally had seven PhDs on his wall.

"I think I ruptured my spleen, Mr. Wexler," I wheezed between fish-like gasps for air as I limped to my seat.

"ArmA 3 doesn't prepare you for sprinting, Aaron," a familiar voice said.

"Dating sims don't prepare you for getting a girlfriend, Henry," I retorted. Henry was a fellow nerd and my best friend. The guy had a predilection for mischief, but if you could channel his cognitive faculties you had a real asset. If school was an Elder Scrolls game, Henry was my favorite follower. Our relationship had been cemented by a Game Boy Advance link cable a decade ago, and even in junior year, gaming was our favorite social activity.

"Well, my friend, it's Friday, and you know what that means," Henry said.

"It's Awful Fanfic Night, isn't it?" I replied. AFN was one of our oldest traditions, a sacred custom shared between two idiots with subpar social skills.

"Dude, I have a more exciting idea for tonight," he said, reaching for his backpack. The look on his face said it all: this was going to get good. Henry shuffled through his stuff, mumbling something about a "devious plot," until he pulled out a small black rectangle the size of a cell phone.

"You know it's a bad idea," I said, "when Henry breaks out the remotes."

"You know that the football team has a game tonight, right?" Henry asked.

"Duh," I stated. I didn't care about football, but the school clearly did, and with that kind of setup a game is ard to forget about.

"This baby controls an RC car that I planted under the bleachers," Henry whispered. The mischievous grin adorning his visage was contagious, and soon the hype was building within me.

"Want to join me for a drive, Aaron?" he continued as a ghastly cackle escaped his throat. I allowed myself a moment to think. This would be the most insane stunt we had ever pulled by a long shot. As much as logic wanted me to shoot it down, this idea was hard to resist.

"I'm in."

* * *

 

The remaining time at school was lackluster, as usual. I didn't see how so many people called the teenage years the "best years" of their lives, and personally, I thought that the imbecile that conceived the idea of placing twelve-hundred pimply and volatile sub-adult humans in one building should have been terminated with extreme prejudice.

The only class I enjoyed was Wexler's Engineering Class, because I got an excellent grade on my transcript just for tinkering and learning how to build things that didn't totally suck. After battling the hormonal crowds in the hallways in a way that would make the LAPD proud, I finally regrouped with Henry.

"Alright, if we're gonna pull this heist off, we need some gear. I have the car, of course, and some smoke bombs in case we want some extra fireworks," Henry said, the sunlight turning the lenses of his glasses white, like what happens in every anime ever.

"That's a nice trick with the glasses," I chatted.

"I've practiced," Henry bragged. "Anyways, you need to wear dark clothes, of course. Think Metal Gear Solid, but with us instead of highly trained operatives that actually know what the hell they're doing."

"I'll make sure to be stealthy," I confirmed, "and I'll bring the cardboard box."

An idea hit me as I finished the sentence.

"Henry," I began, "follow me to Mr. W's room. I have a pet project locked up in there that I'm dying to test out."

I could barely contain my excitement as we traversed the now-empty halls. I walked into the lab, checked the room for witnesses, and slowly opened the bottom drawer of a dusty and desolate tool crate that rested in the corner like a poor kid at a birthday party. I felt around in the drawer until I found my secret weapon.

"You'll be... Shocked, by this one," I cackled. In my hands, I held a pair of metal-studded mechanic gloves covered with a tangled web of wiring and solder. I flipped the red switches on the power sources, and flinched as blinding blue arcs shot across the shiny silver electrodes that adorned my knuckles.

"You have way too much time on your hands, dude," Henry said. He looked impressed, and this was coming from the guy who, at age four, built a device to get the straw into a Capri Sun without bending it.

"I modded some military-grade tasers that Richard brought home," I replied. "And I must say, these were entirely worth electrocuting myself...twice." I flipped the switches again, removed the improvised shock gloves, and stowed them in my backpack.

"Meet me at the softball field at 8:00," Henry commanded as he walked out of the shop. I closed the crate and cleared any evidence of my entrance, and returned to my car.

"This was going to be a night to remember, alright," I thought to myself as I blasted back to the apartment.

* * *

 

I arrived at my manor of manly, dropped my bags, and proceeded to plop down into my desk chair. I figured that if a seat has a permanent imprint of your ass, it may be used too much. But come on, what was I going to do, go outside? Sacrilege!

"Alright, it's 4:06, I have some time to relax."

I booted my jet engine PC, savoring the sound of my overclocked graphics card awakening from its slumber. I built the thing after sorting through seas of Amazon boxes, and I treated it like my child. Really, it was going to literally be my only child if my exploits with women didn't get more successful.

I opened Steam, thanked the almighty Gabe Newell for my beefy library of games and my shriveled wallet, and prepared for my daily Russian language lesson on Counter-Strike: Global Offensive.

I played for the next three hours, making a point to scream "ayy lmao" at 4:20. It probably wasn't healthy to have the three hours feel like three minutes, but I didn't really care. I threw open my closet doors in the most dramatic manner possible, sending a myriad of clothes careening across the room. Brimming with apprehension, I reached for a duffel bag in the corner of the closet and dragged it over to my bed. I unzipped the bag, and extracted my stealthy gear stash.

"This stuff is gonna be sneaky AF," I said to myself, sorting out my black pants and shirt. They were both padded, so I hoped that they would allow me to maneuver without snapping my brittle bones in half. At the edge of the bag, I grabbed the small microfiber bag that contained my Sly Profit paintball mask. I pulled the mask over my head and snugly fastened it to my face, then slid my shoddily-constructed electroshock gloves onto my hands. Realizing that I needed to get a move on, I walked outside, locked the front door, and sped over to the softball field.

"Psst, Aaron," Henry whispered as I disembarked from my car. I looked around and eventually spotted him behind the currently-abandoned snack bar, crouching to minimize his profile.

I skulked over to his position and saw that he was carrying his snazzy RC car, which he seemed to have rigged with smoke bombs.

"You ready?" Henry said, vigilantly snapping his head back and forth.

I scanned the surroundings and replied, "Yeah. You?" My friend nodded and pointed silently to the football field. The sports arenas were all contained within the same complex, which was great if you were either a soccer mom or a lanky doofus trying to be a ninja. I was the latter. We slinked across the small parking lot to the football field, where the audience's incessant shouting muffled every other sound.

"Alright, let me make this entirely clear, buddy, we split up if we get spotted. It's safer," Henry whispered. I shook my head in agreement, hoping that we wouldn't need this contingency plan.

I peeked at the current state of the game. The Grandview Hornets were already within field goal range, which would bring joy to any meathead in the town.

"Ready the car," I said. "If they go for a field goal, that'll give us one helluva setup."

Henry was already preparing his toy for the moment of glory. I gave the signal as the team prepared to kick the pigskin through the giant yellow salad fork.

"Alright, my child, prepare to be immortalized in the hearts of hundreds," Henry whispered as he comforted his favorite inanimate object. I thought I saw a tear roll down his face as he set the miniature vehicle in the launch position. The next moments were a blur.

The kicker lining up his shot...

Henry's fingers on the control sticks...

The sound of fireworks detonating as the car sped across the turf...

Stunned expressions and silence...

Our school team charging at us...

"FUUUUCK!" I exploded. Panic coursed through my veins as the flight response kicked in and I sprinted like Usain Bolt high on caffeine. Henry frantically dashed away in the opposite direction, with a parade of sweaty and violent jocks.

"Get 'em!" I heard the quarterback order, his bellow accompanied by the grunts and roars of five other testosterone-filled muscle packs. They were starting to catch up.

Henry was right. ArmA sprinting didn't translate to real life.

"Well, I have no choice," I mumbled as I grasped the power supplies mounted to my arms. The sparks flew as I prepared my most badass fighting stance. These intimidating monuments of manhood seemed to be SCARED of my device!

"Not so tough now, are you?" I swaggered cockily.

Snap!

"Shit."

My confidence was replaced with sheer terror as one of my gauntlets shorted out, and the football team realized that no, I was not in fact the god of thunder.

Karma was a bitch.

I resumed my hasty exodus from the field, feeling the fatigue in my untoned muscles and the burn in my lungs. I refused to look back, reasoning that it wouldn't slow my pursuers. Resisting the urge to give up and accept my impending doom, I cut to the right and headed into the dark and spooky forest bordering the complex, losing the pursuing team after about twenty minutes.

After what felt like an eternity of running, I slowed my pace and attempted to catch my breath as I moved toward a streetlight tempting me just past the trees in the distance. After devouring my emergency Pop-Tart and almost immediately vomiting said pastry as a result of the exertion, I finally dragged myself out of the woods.

I examined the surroundings, and recognized where I was. Daniel's Gun Shop, the ultimate headquarters for unnecessary firepower. I collapsed against the back wall and clinched my teeth as a killer side stitch ripped through my torso.

I was preparing myself for a well-deserved nap when, inexplicably, an eerie purple ray of light hit my visor. I instinctively turned my head toward the disturbance: a trippy spherical iTunes visualizer the size of a bowling ball.

"What the huh?" I grumbled. I had just spent my Friday night running from a gang of Incredible Hulks, and now I was apparently experiencing an LSD dream. Just as I started to move away from the mass, it began to expand and contract in a rhythmic pattern, increasing in size with every cycle. Before I could run away, the anomalous orb suddenly exploded outward, engulfing the entire store as my vision blurred and my consciousness slipped away.


	2. Chapter 2

I awoke to a startlingly intense beam of UV radiation blasting through my window, and winced as my retinae screamed like a woman in labor. It was an average day in-

"Hold the phone," I grumbled as I pushed myself off of the ground. Instead of the bed in my house, I was resting on a bed of soft, green grass. Huge, towering trees surrounded me on all sides, against a cerulean sky. Birds darted between the treetops, filling the air with their jubilant songs, and a friendly breeze flowed across my head.

"This is bizarre..." I muttered.

My limbs seemed to be mostly intact, so I decided to enjoy the lucid dream while it lasted. To my left was the devastated Daniel's, more crumbly and decrepit than it usually was. The treacherous tumble through time and space had snapped the entire structure in half, allowing easy entry into the gun nut's dream. Deciding to follow the plotline of every Self-Insert ever, I slid through the massive breach in the wall to arm myself. As the hero of this insane hallucination, I would need some sweet weapons.

I emerged on the other side of the wall and nearly died after tripping on a misplaced rifle magazine. I tore through the overturned shelves and scattered wares like a kid in a candy store, filling a conveniently placed spare backpack that I found with pounds upon pounds of ammo and granola bars.

I perused the selection of archaic-looking rifles and shotguns until a glass case on the undamaged wall caught my eye. Inside was an absolutely badass M4 carbine, complete with a black railed handguard, vertical foregrip, and a cool holographic sight.

An awestruck "wow" escaped my throat as I took the weapon into my hands. It was surprisingly light, and it looked like it was straight out of Battlefield or something. I hoped that my extensive Wikipedia lurking would serve me well as I pushed a loaded magazine into the receiver. Using my skills acquired from watching tons of action movies, I smacked the ammo in with a satisfying click, and yanked the charging handle.

I placed my new toy on the sole structurally sound glass counter, and got back to pillaging. In what I assumed was the manager's office, I found a plate carrier with pre-installed anti-ballistic plates and a menacing kukri-style knife. If there was one thing that TV Tropes taught me, it was that "Kukris Are Kool".

After struggling with straps for ten minutes, I finally managed to equip my sweet new loot. I pointed the barrel of the M4 at the ceiling and stood in my best special forces pose. Feeling like a true champion, I strutted to the obliterated front of the store and took a bite out of my granola bar. Just then, I heard a blood-curdling howl. I turned to the right to see a massive black and bone-plated werewolf creature, its soulless red eyes silently deciding on the best way to tear my insides out.

"You've got to be kidding me," I said, reflexively raising the rifle toward the werewolf. We stood there for a few seconds, eyes locked, when the abomination charged at me. I floored the trigger, the recoil bombarding my frail shoulder as the shots bounced around my new friend. I saw a spurt of blood jet from the creature's right eye socket as it entered striking range.

The joy of hitting my mark was displaced by a burst of blunt pain as the ebony hellhound pinned me to the ground. The blood evacuated my face as I fought in vain to escape the frigid claws currently digging into my body.

In an adrenaline-induced moment of desperation, I yanked the kukri out of its sheath and lodged the blade into the wolf's exposed torso. The monster barely flinched and slammed me into the ground again before taking a bite into my left arm. An agonized scream escaped me as my arm was ripped mercilessly into a horrible mess of sinew and blood. My right hand shot outward in a last-ditch attempt to find another usable weapon and met a cold metal shape.

A loaded pistol.

"Chew on this, asshole!" I roared as I emptied the handgun into the bony face of my attacker. Red mist exploded out of the beast's head as it fell limp to the side with a low moan. The corpse dissolved into a black smoke, which would have been absolutely shocking if I wasn't suffering from life-threatening blood loss. Searing pain ravaged my now-crippled arm as I stood myself up and examined the weapon responsible for my survival. I recognized the boxy shape of a Glock pistol, shimmering with the gore of the recently deceased monster.

"I'll be...holding on to this," I stammered as I holstered the pistol and picked my knife off of the ground. My head felt horribly light, and the edges of my vision turned blurry and black. I fell onto one knee, in an attempt to regain my stamina when I saw a huge cloud of birds flying away from the trees in front of me. A tear rolled down my face and into my mask padding as a gargantuan scorpion the size of a monster truck crashed through the vegetation.

"Must say, never… thought that I'd get killed by a giant scorpion," I wearied as I raised the pistol for what I assumed would be the last time.

I pulled the trigger and heard the distinctive snap of an empty magazine.

The ebony and ivory arachnid lashed out with a horrifying golden stinger, and I closed my eyes, forfeiting my life to this colossus.

I never felt the hit.

"Blake, cut the tail!" said a high-pitched female voice. The end of her sentence was followed by a volley of shotgun blasts, the sound of a sword slicing through tissue, and the ear-piercing screech of the dying monster.

I looked up and saw what appeared to be a group of four girls, all more or less my age, engaging the scorpion.

Wait a second.

Evil bone-plated monsters that want to kill everything...

Werewolves...

Giant scorpions...

Four cute girls with awesome weapons...

This could only mean one thing.

RWBY.

"What. The actual. FUCK?!" I asked myself, dropping the gun and collapsing back onto the comforting grass. I tried to wave at the team, but my sole functioning arm wouldn't budge, and I felt the effects of uncontrolled hemorrhaging as I slumped over into a warm pool of my own blood.

"So...tired..."


	3. Chapter 3

_Hey, are you there, God? It's me, Aaron._

_I almost never do this, but it's been a crazy day. Uh, thanks for the great Pop-Tart earlier, and that one s'mores flavor granola bar, which was delicious. I would also say thanks for transporting me into one of my favorite shows, but a huge chunk of my arm was eaten like a strip of bacon by a werewolf, so I'm not sure if I like this change too much. That, and nearly getting impaled by a monster scorpion isn't my idea of "fun"._

_I'm sorry for the trespass that warranted this punishment: going outside. I promise that I won't ever do it again, and if I survive this, I won't ever let anyone else go outside and suffer the same fate. Amen._

I came to in what looked like an emergency room, complete with ECG machines and various buttons that would probably lead to my termination if I pressed any of them. The sanitary room smelled like a potent cocktail of hydrogen peroxide and rusty metal. My bed was surrounded by a standard green curtain, past which I assumed were other patients.

I glanced over at my crippled appendage, examining the various tubes and wires that were connected to it. The entire wounded area was covered by a layer of gel-like biological dressing. The wound still looked awful, but the pain had gone from unendurable torment to mild discomfort, and this made me quite happy for obvious reasons. I moved to poke the dressing when the curtains started to shift.

"He-looo!" said a young woman with cyan hair. Her white uniform identified her as a nurse, which meant that a barrage of sharp needles would almost certainly be piercing every corner of my body soon.

"Hi," I responded in the best enthusiastic voice I could muster. Enthusiasm was a rare commodity when you were missing a few pieces.

"Your wound was pretty bad when they brought you in," the nurse continued, "but you should be fine in a few days. We're going to be keeping you on campus until we're sure you're good to go."

"Campus?" I asked. I was fairly sure of what that meant, but for the sake of clarity, it had to be asked.

"Yep! Beacon Academy. The famous Hunter school," she replied.

"Yeah...Beacon. Right. Who brought me back?" I inquired. I knew the answer to that one too.

"Your rescuers? That would be Team RWBY," she answered.

It was confirmed. I was in RWBY. Never have excitement and terror felt so similar to me.

"Thanks for the information, ma'am," I said, breaking out the manners of the gentleman.

"No problem! I'm here if you need any medical help, but from here on you're free to roam campus within reason," she replied.

With that, she disconnected me from the machines and set out a new outfit on the bed. Khaki pants and a striped shirt, along with a pair of new skate shoes. I quickly got dressed and left the medical wing, following two students to the outside door. I stopped dead in my tracks at the sight before me.

"Dude..."

The courtyard was even more aesthetically appealing in person than it was in the show. Huge groups of wide-eyed and eager new students travelled about in the shadow of the magnificently opulent towers archways, pillars, and other buildings and structures that made up the school. The excitement of these people filled the air, along with their idle chatting about boyfriends or girlfriends, classes, and other enthralling topics.

The sight of the academy campus in all of it's glory made me come to a realization: I am in a world where powerful magi-tech and monsters capable of leveling entire cities were normal parts of life.

This was a world where teenagers could fight with enough skill and power to best Navy SEALs who had decades of training, and the adult fighters here with decades of training themselves were many magnitudes more powerful than even that.

Yet, here I stood, with pasty skin, a crippled arm, and mild sociological conditions, with no fighting skills and an extreme prejudice for flight over fight in virtually every scenario.

I was completely ready for this…

"Oh, who the fuck am I kidding? I'm toast."


	4. Chapter 4

I retreated indoors after realizing that I couldn't really do anything vaguely interesting in the school, and decided that I needed sustenance as soon as possible. After pillaging the medical wing kitchen like a gang of Visigoths in 410 Rome, I devoured six bagels, a cold cut of some description, three churros, and a single slice of cheese.

Attempting to avoid diabetes, I stopped short of consuming the tempting lollipop stash and moved back to my humble curtain-wrapped base, collapsing onto the newly-made hospital bed as soon as I got in.

"You know, the Vytal Tournament is happening right now." I looked past the drawn curtain and saw the nurse from before, sitting at her desk.

'So we're at the beginning of Volume 3. Good to know.'

"Uh, what's that?" I asked, trying my best to sound as clueless as possible.

"...You seriously haven't heard of it?"

"I'm from… Outside the Kingdoms," I responded. I was banking on the possibility that people living outside the Kingdoms would be unaware of things happening inside the walls.

"Oh. I'm sorry, I should have known…"

"Don't be sorry, it's fine. Now, what exactly is the Vytal Tournament?"

"It's only the biggest celebration of the year!" She sounded far happier now. "I'd be watching the tournament matches right now if this wasn't my shift," she answered. "You can probably catch the next fight if you go now. Should be one to see."

"Cool," I replied. "I think that's exactly what I'll do."

"Remember to go easy on the arm," she said. "You only have so much blood, you know."

"Don't worry, I'll keep my fluids inside from now on," I replied. With that, I was off, eager to see the epic battle in person.

* * *

 

"You're kidding me."

"Sorry, sir, no entry while the match is in progress."

I grimaced and walked away from the Atlas soldier guarding the gate. I didn't brave the harsh sunlight just to get blocked at the door. Feeling defeated, I slowly moved over to one of the concession stands in hopes of getting more junk food. Nutrition was for chumps anyway.

"I'll take a bag of Dorit- I mean triangular corn chips coated in nacho cheese flavoring," I said, deftly recovering from my cover-blowing mistake. The concession man coughed like he was holding back a laugh before grabbing a bag of chips from under the counter.

"That'll be two Lien," he said, sliding the bag to me.

"This should do it," I replied as I pulled two crumpled dollar bills out of my wallet and placed them on the counter. The man looked down at my money in disdain.

"I don't want your crummy paper, kid. We only take Lien here."

Damn. Forgot about dollars not existing here.

"Oh, yeah. You can have the chips back. Sorry about that," I stammered as a bead of sweat rolled down my forehead. The concession man just grunted and took the goods back, allowing me to leave with minimal hostility. As I walked quickly away from the stand, a mob of people from the stadium paraded out of the Colosseum entrance, indicating that the fights were now over.

"Well, rust in piss, fanboy dreams," I mumbled. I turned to walk back to my hospital dwelling when an enthusiastic female voice overtook the festival ambiance.

"Hey! It's that guy from yesterday!"


	5. Chapter 5

  
"...c'mon, get up."

Despite the fact that my vision was currently comparable to a large mug of pilsner, I managed to make out a flowing head of golden hair, radiant and shimmering beautifully in the warm sunlight.

That, and an open palm flying toward my face.

The shock wave rippled through my face, making my cheeks vibrate like a gelatin dessert plummeting from low-Earth orbit. A strong stinging sensation filled the right side of my face, bringing me back to semi-alertness.

"Shit! Son of a motherfu-"

I realized my mistake after examining the blurry image of my attacker. Brown boots, absurdly short shorts that would probably be frowned upon by old ladies everywhere, matching brown jacket...

Oh. Yang Xiao Long. What a surprise.

"Heh, sorry about that, but that guard over there looked pretty mad about you taking a nap in the middle of the festival grounds," said the blond bombshell standing above me.

"My face hurts," I whimpered, suppressing the fiery rage exacerbated by the massive red handprint currently spreading across my cheek. As much as I wanted to show my anger, I didn't really want to have my skull shattered by a superpowered boxer today.

"Heh, wimp!" She teased. "Name's Yang. What's yours, String Cheese?"

String cheese combined the tasty flavor and calcium of cheese with the simple fun of string.

There were definitely worse nicknames to get stuck with.

"Uh, I'm Aaron," I replied. Name trading was a great start to a friendship. At least, that's what Grandma always said to me back when I was in preschool. Sadly, asking the blonde to build snazzy castles with me in the sandbox probably wasn't a rock-solid plan here.

"Nice to meet you, Aaron! Come on, get out of the dirt so we can go meet the others," she said, outstretching her hand to grab my arm.

"Wait a sec-"

I attempted to protest, but Yang was already dragging me to destinations unknown. I was only a day or so into this adventure, but I already knew that there was no embracing this chaos.

The chaos was embracing me.

I more or less voluntarily followed Yang to one of the many food places set up for the Festival, where Blake, Ruby, and Weiss were waiting. Yang took a seat at the table, leaving me standing with the stiff posture of a cardboard cutout. After ten seconds of awkward silence, she reached over and yanked me down into the last empty seat.

"Well...um, I got him to wake up!" She said in a clear attempt to break the ice.

"I must say, you have a talent for passing out," said the bow-wearing Faunus girl seated in front of me as she peeked over a book.

Blake, team member who definitely hasn't ever hidden anything. Check.

"Yeah, you kinda just fell over back at the Colosseum," Ruby said with a nervous half-smile that clearly took immense effort to produce. At least she wasn't the only one having difficulty with this conversation. "It was really funny. Until we realized that we couldn't get you up, that is."

Ruby, adorable scythe-wielding weapons dork. Check.

That just leaves...

"Why were you sleeping in the middle of Grimm territory, anyway? Not only did you nearly get yourself killed, you left it to us to save you! Maybe if you weren't being a dullard, your arm wouldn't be held together with medical gel!"

...Ice Queen. Check.

"Weiss, be nice!" Ruby whispered. She reminded me of a frantic mother trying to keep her spoiled brat offspring from calling Santa Claus a faking asshole to his face.

"The quiet one reading the book is Blake, and that nerd right there is my sister, Ruby," Yang said with renewed enthusiasm, "And the icy one over there is Weiss."

"Hi, Aaron, my name is- wait," I stammered, eliciting a few awkward throat-clears from the team. Apparently my skills with females carried over to this plane of existence too. "Shit, that's not right..."

"...If you couldn't understand any of that, his name is Aaron!" interjected Yang, sparing me from any more self-embarrassment. I silently mouthed a "thank you" to her, and she shot me a thumbs-up in response.

"So, Aaron, is this your first time at the Vytal Festival?" Ruby asked, continuing the effort of eroding the Titanic-sinking iceberg often referred to as "first conversation."

"Uh, yeah, it is, actually," I replied with regained composure.

"Mine too. We're actually competing this year! Did you get to watch?"

"I guess I missed it. It's been a REALLY long day, trust me."

"Aww, that sucks. Well, we won our first match!"So we're just at the end of Episode 1. "That's...great! You guys must work really well together."

"Yeah, I think so!"

I was feeling pretty good. The group hadn't run away screaming yet, and that was a commendable victory in my book. Weiss still looked pretty salty, so I decided to break out the kindergarten-level small talk to smooth things over.

"Um, that's a really neat fencing sword..."

"It's one of the reasons that you're even alive right now, so yes, it's 'neat.'"

"Hey, I'm trying to be nice here."

The heiress gave me a nasty look and pulled the classic bratty hair-flip, head-turn maneuver.

"I hate to leave this thrilling exchange, but I have someone to meet."

And with that, the renowned token tsundere of RWBY walked off to wherever as feelings of bitter defeat filled my mind. I was already screwing everything up, and I hadn't even been talking with the girls for more than ten minutes.

"Don't worry, she'll warm up. She always does," Yang encouraged, playfully slugging me in the arm. At least, I thought it was playful, though the dull blue splotch forming on my pathetic bicep told a different story.

That, or I was just a wimp with little to no durability. Probably the latter.

"Yang's right. She's actually nice, but she doesn't like to show that to strangers," Blake added as she closed her book and cracked a reassuring smile.

"Hey, Aaron, how old are you?" Ruby inquired suddenly.

"I'm seventeen."

"Really? That'd make you a first-year like us!"

"Uh...yeah! Freshman friends! Go team!"

I looked around the table to see the distinctive unimpressed expressions of the team.

"Heh, heh, am I right? No...? Man, tough crowd..."

"Well, it's getting a bit late, so we're gonna go back to the dorm," Ruby said while pointing at the copper-orange sunset.

The shattered moon and beautiful evening skies made me think of home and I wondered if anyone had noticed that I was missing. A pang of sadness hit me as I imagined everyone I knew endlessly searching for me, and eventually giving up as their predictions turned from finding me alive to finding a corpse, ultimately never finding anything at all.

To the outside world, I was already dead.

"...ron, are you coming?"

I snapped out of my melancholy to see Ruby waving at me from the other end of the field. The other two girls were running towards her, having what I assumed was a jolly old time judging from their laughter and comedic banter.

"Why the fuck not," I said to myself as I stood up from the table. I didn't really have anything better to do, and hanging out with the team was more enjoyable than I initially expected. Breaking into a sprint, I followed the color-coordinated companions toward the Academy, fighting hard against the fatigue that was already setting in.

"Tired already, wimp?" I heard Yang joke as she poked fun at my awful physical condition. It took some insane circumstances, but I was actually starting to speak to females! It was a miracle!

"You wish! I'm… just getting warmed up!" Good Lord did I hope I wouldn't regret saying that.


	6. Chapter 6

"Where are you going to sleep tonight, Aaron?"

Blake had her priorities straight.

"I don't really know yet." I replied, feeling the drowsiness creep closer by the second.

Experiencing an event that would cause most people to experience an existential crisis could really take it out of you.

"Unless you want to take Weiss's bed, we don't have enough room for you. We have a LOT of stuff," Yang stated plainly.

"I don't think the bed-thieving is a good plan," I replied. "I think it would end with my severed head rolling across the floor."

"You could go talk to Professor Ozpin and see if he'll let you have a room," Ruby suggested.

"He's the Headmaster guy, right?"

"Yep! You can probably find him walking around the school right about now."

"Okay. Thanks for the pointers and whatnot. Good night, everyone."

The three girls reciprocated, and I quietly left the room. I didn't especially want to sleep on the stiff hospital bed again, so finding Ozpin was my new mission. I jogged briskly around the campus, scouring the classrooms and offices for the famously wise man with the wise plan, but he was nowhere to be found, not even in his clocktower office.

After around twenty minutes of searching, I gave up and shed a single bitter tear as I grabbed a newspaper to use as a blanket from a vending station. I was spreading the paper out on a bench when I felt a tap on my shoulder.

It was my lucky day. Professor Ozpin, in the flesh. An air of impeccable wit and years of accumulated wisdom permeated the area from his mere presence. This was an honor.

"Newspapers are for reading, Mister Carlyle, not for sleeping on."

"Uh, agreed, but I don't really have anywhere else to sleep besides the hospital," I replied, barely restraining my urge to ask for his autograph. This was like a day in Disneyland, but twenty times better.

"Well, I have heard about your arrival. Weiss was very… descriptive, to say the least."

The Ice Queen was at it again. Dammit, Weiss!

"Is that a good thing or a bad thing, Professor?"

"That is entirely a matter of perspective, Aaron," Ozpin chuckled, "but that is not the reason I have come to speak with you."

I didn't like where this was going. Not one bit.

"Come with me, Aaron. I have a friend who is eager to meet you."

* * *

 

I followed Ozpin through the maze of halls and corridors that made up the school until we reached an entirely separate wing of the school that I had never seen in the show. Classrooms were on both sides of the wide hall, but they seemed to be less like college lecture halls and more like laboratories.

I felt right at home.

"Here we are," Ozpin said as he placed his hand on a glass panel. The panel lit up on contact, displaying a perfect map of his handprint as overwhelming amounts of data moved across the screen.

**IDENTITY VERIFIED. ACCESS GRANTED.**

The door slid open with a satisfying mechanical sound, the sound of perfectly engineered machinery working in harmony to open the path. Music, sweet music.

"After you, sir," I said. I had watched enough horror films to know that going in first into a spooky room is pretty much a guaranteed death sentence. The professor and I entered the open doorway and arrived in a dimly lit workshop-classroom combination that reminded me somewhat of Mr. Wexler's class. Smells of metal and plastic filled the air with their aroma, hinting at the awesome science that undoubtedly took place here on a daily basis.

"Professor, your guest is here," Ozpin said, his voice echoing throughout the desolate room. The eerie silence returned after a few moments.

"He is most likely in his office. I will return momentarily."

I took the void left by Ozpin as an invitation to examine the partially completed projects that dotted the workbenches. On the nearest bench, a half-assembled tonfa-pistol combo rested beside a box of glowing Dust crystals. I reached over and picked up one of the shards, a fiery red one that was pleasantly warm to the touch, presumably Fire Dust.

I turned around to replace the crystal in its container when I was startled by a terrifying rat-like man wearing an eyepatch. The crystal plummeted to the ground and shattered into a wave of sparks, which I was sure would anger the scary pirate captain that snuck up on me.

"Salutations, Aaron Carlyle, I have been expecting you." Eyepatch said in a thick German accent.

Holy Jesus Christ this wasn't happening.

Ozpin had just handed me over to a Nazi scientist.

"Uh, hey," I muttered as I discreetly smothered a stray spark with my shoe.

"Aaron, meet Professor Emil Rosenthal," Ozpin said as he returned from the office."Gentlemen, I trust that you will get along well. I bid you goodnight."

The mechanical gate opened automatically for Ozpin and closed behind him with a metallic clank, sealing my undoubtedly terrible fate.

"You aren't going to dissect me, right?" I shuddered, taking two steps back from the scientist.

"Boy, do you honestly think that an eyepatch automatically makes me a villain?"

"It was more of the accent, really..."

Rosenthal sighed in disapproval as he opened another metal door at the other end of the classroom. He showed me inside and entered behind me. The room was a small study area furnished with wood shelving, various pieces of high-level scientific literature, and a large desk. It smelled like cigar smoke and evil. The Bond villain vibe was really on point with this man.

"So, Carlyle, tell me about yourself," the professor said as he cut a cigar and lit the end.

"What do you want to know?"

"Anything. Your experiences at Beacon thus far, your arrival, things like that."

"Well, I'm not gonna lie, it's been pretty insane so far. I never would've thought that I'd ever actually end up at Beacon Academy of all places, either. I kind of just woke up in the forest, and the rest is history."

The menacing man took another long puff of the cigar and stared silently at the ceiling for what felt like an hour but was probably only a minute. He seemed dissatisfied with my response.

"Tell me, where do you hail from?"

This was it, the armor-piercing question. Time to once again put my dishonesty to the test.

"...Outside the Kingdoms. I don't come to Vale often," I said, doing my best to sound legitimate and to make my new story consistent with the older one.

"Mister Carlyle, I like you thus far, but I absolutely loathe liars," Rosenthal leaned in and burned into my soul with his sole functioning eye. "...and you aren't even a very good one."

"Wait, what? How...?" I leaned backward in my seat and prepared to make a break for the door.

"Calm yourself, I have no intention of doing you any harm. One moment, please."

He shuffled through a desk drawer until he pulled out a yellow folder filled with a huge assortment of papers and complicated graphs. The folder landed on the desk with a loud "pop" that scared the living daylights out of me.

"Aaron, this graph shows the levels of electromagnetic radiation around this place two days ago," he said, pointing at the jagged line on the page with a pen. "Now, if you will notice, there is a noticeable increase around the time that you arrived."

"Okay? Why does it matter?"

"It matters because this is not the first time such an event has happened. Do you remember seeing any strange sights, any...lights, perhaps?"

More questions. Just what I asked for. Merry Christmas, Aaron Carlyle!

"Yeah, I saw this weird purple ball...thing. I think it ate me, actually."

"Exactly! Now, examine this graph," Rosenthal said as he extracted another piece of paper. Unlike the last sheet, this one was crumpled and yellowing, indicating its more advanced age.

"...It looks the same," I stated in awe after comparing the similar graphs. They were almost exact copies, actually.

"This graph shows the amount of electromagnetic radiation observed at this school on the night of 23 September, 1985. That was the night on which I arrived here."

A revelation suddenly hit me like a flying brick. Was he from...?

"Wait, so you're..."

"From Earth? Yes, in the past, I was a physicist at the European Laboratory for Particle Physics before my event occurred. I must know: did the Soviets win out in the end?"

Hooray. I fulfilled my dream of being a history teacher.

"No, they collapsed in 1991. The Berlin Wall got destroyed too."

"Excellent. I once lived on the Western side of the wall. Did my colleagues ever successfully create antihydrogen?"

"I think so. You can't store it for very long, though, so it's not really use-"

Rosenthal suddenly jumped from his chair and threw a stack of papers into the air.

"Haha! I told them that it was feasible! 'No, Emil, that's not possible!' 'No, Rosenthal, you are stupid for believing that!' Well, who is the one laughing now?"

So THIS is what it looks like when someone discovers something groundbreaking in the scientific realm. It was much more...active than what I would've assumed.

"Ahem. I digress. I must return to my work analyzing this data, but you are welcome to stay here as long as you wish to," Rosenthal said, regaining his normal demeanor. "There is a storage room at the end of the laboratory corridor where you will find a sofa to rest on and the locker that contains your weapons. We shall continue tomorrow. Sleep well."

With that, he left the room, a wispy trail of cigar smoke following his path. I was quite tired at this point, so I decided to take him up on his offer of bedding arrangements. I felt my way down the dark hallway until I made it inside the storage room.

"Nice."

I immediately felt at home. Against the back wall was a worn leather couch with a pillow already positioned at one end, and against the other was the boxy shape of a locker. A single floral rug covered the bare concrete floor beside the sofa, and a cheap metal desk sat in one corner.

It was perfect.

I opened the metal box to take inventory and felt immediate relief when I saw my armor, guns, and mask waiting for me. Feeling satisfied, I closed the locker, plopped down heavily onto the ratty couch, and fell into a deep and restful sleep.


	7. Chapter 7

My peaceful slumber was interrupted by the piercing whine of power tools.

"Good morning, Remnant," I mumbled. I rolled off of the couch and shuffled down the hallway toward the source of the cacophony that so rudely ended my sleep. As I approached, I saw short bursts of blue light emanating from under the door.

"Professor Rosenthal?" I called as I opened the door. The man was hunched over a rolling desk, welding some enigmatic contraption.

"Good morning, Aaron," Rosenthal said through his lowered welding mask. "Follow me."

He put his blowtorch down and rushed over to a computer terminal in the center of the room, motioning for me to approach. He rapidly typed a string of commands into the terminal and pointed straight ahead to an unfurnished area of flooring.

"Witness."

Suddenly, four rectangular pylons started to rise out of the floor.

"Aaron, this is an experimental teleportation array. I have spent decades perfecting the design."

"Teleportation? Seriously?" I asked. That kind of technology was a stretch, even here, though I guessed Neo and Raven could beg to differ. "What do you plan to do with it?"

"You will see. One moment, please."

He resumed his typing, looking more and more energetic with each press of the return key. Suddenly, a holographic screen grew and wrapped around the terminal, while various readouts painted the metaphorical canvas with their light-blue glow. The professor reached over to what looked like a slider and moved it to the 100% marker.

**Pylon 01, Online.**

**Pylon 02, Online.**

**Pylon 03, Online.**

**Pylon 04, Online.**

"This is the culmination of decades of my work, and thanks to you, it will finally come to fruition."

The spires simultaneously fired what looked like purple lasers toward the middle of the floor, causing a burst of blinding indigo light to fill the room. Fluorescent lights exploded and showered the floor with glass, presumably due to the sudden power surge. One final flare marked the end of the fireworks, and I uncovered my eyes to see a minivan-sized purple orb.

"I call it the Rosenthal Bridge."

"You replicated the portal that sent us here? How?"

"It is quite simple," Rosenthal began. "I simply used the data collected upon your arrival and calibrated the teleportation array to match the anomalies that brought us here."

"So, where will this thing spit us out? Can you even control it?" I asked.

There was no way that this thing could actually be safe.

"The destination of the exit portal can be changed to any point, so yes, I can control it. This instance will transport us to the outskirts of Geneva. I intend to pay CERN a visit. I must share my findings with them."

"But Professor, what if they don't believe you? If you haven't noticed, you've been missing for thirty years!"

"It does not matter. Once I deliver the designs, all will be clear."

The scientist picked up a bulging satchel full of papers and measurements and walked toward the portal.

"Hey, wait!" I said, catching up. "You haven't been to Earth in, like, three decades. I'm going with you."

"Absolutely not! I am capable of navigating the city myself," he replied, pausing to tell me off. I, however, would not be so easily deterred.

"C'mon, think about it. A lot has changed, and unlike you, I actually know what's going on in modern times. No offense, but you're basically a geriatric with an eyepatch."

"I prefer the term 'senior' to 'geriatric', thank you very much!" Rosenthal retaliated. "Besides, your presence will make it significantly harder to enter the building without drawing suspicion. Remain here and monitor the array until I return."

With that, he swiftly entered the portal, leaving me alone with a possibly-unstable reality warping machine that I had literally no idea how to operate.

Because that was definitely a good idea.

* * *

Two dozen moderately-armed security personnel milled about the compound, their large and menacing machine guns glimmering in the light Geneva rain.

The entire city was under a heightened state of security to ward off any potential terror threats, and the largest research center on the continent was no exception to this rule.

On this gloomy day, Doctor Emil Rosenthal was determined to get his data into the right hands, hands that were one-hundred meters underground in a high-security laboratory.

"Halt!" Yelled one of the guards as he jogged toward the labcoat-wearing elder.

"I must enter the laboratory. I have vital data that must be delivered as soon as possible!" Rosenthal said. This was the kind of person the guard was instructed to watch for, but he decided to keep an open mind for now.

"Hold on a moment, I'll need to see some ID," the guard said.

Rosenthal complied and pulled his identification card from the back pocket of his khaki pants before handing it to the soldier that was currently preventing him from starting a new age in human history. The guard's eyes widened as he read the card.

"Sir… this card was issued in January of 1985. Do you have any more… recent paperwork?"

"Shouldn't that suffice?" the scientist replied, hoping that his card would still be valid after so much time.

"Er, no. Sir, 1985 was three decades ago. I'm sorry, but I can't let you in, not without valid papers."

Rosenthal grunted in irritation and checked his watch. He was nearly out of time, and there would be no swaying the guards today. He could already tell.

"...Very well. I will return soon. I apologize for bothering you."

With that, the eye-patched man walked away, defeated, into the gray mist. The guard rubbed his forehead, briefly considered calling this event in, and finally returned to his post to pretend that nothing had ever happened.

"...I need a goddamn promotion.

* * *

 

This was the most boring task imaginable. Portal machines were great for about half an hour, but the newness wore off after that. Now, it was just waiting in a dimly-lit pseudo-evil lair without any video games to play while my mad scientist friend was screwing around in Switzerland.

"Well… yeah, this is pretty lame."

I got bored, walked back to my "bedroom" and popped my locker open to inspect my stuff. A yellow adhesive note that said "Wear them now" was attached to my mask. Complying with the note, I slid the Profits over my head and onto my face.

"Dude…"

Instead of my normal and unaugmented vision, I was greeted by a cyan heads-up display spread across the visor. In one corner was what looked like a vital-sign readout which was currently blank, and in the other was a space reserved for teammate information.

I peeked back into the locker to find more goodies, and was not disappointed. Next to a row of pistol magazines was a forearm-mounted uplink which I promptly put on so that the blue backlit screen was positioned on the inside of my arm. Donning the device caused a recording of Rosenthal to play out of the earpiece mounted inside of the mask.

"Hello, Mister Carlyle. I congratulate you on successfully following commands that an ordinary poodle would struggle with. Now, please remain calm. This will only be painful for a few seconds."

"Wait, WHAT-"

Without warning, stabbing pain rocketed up my arm from the uplink, causing me to grit my teeth to avoid any vocalizations. The pain left as quickly as it arrived, and the condition monitor inside the mask began to display data.

"As you can currently see, your wrist unit has integrated itself with your body. Before you panic, I will tell you that it is removable. Furthermore, the unit will monitor your vital signs and actively update you on your condition. It is also capable of being connected to most computers and equipment, so adaptability will not be a problem for you. The unit includes a communications suite as well."

I admired my nifty new toys for a second before looking at my reflection in the mirror. For some reason, the mask lens was now completely transparent.

"Aww…" I muttered, disappointed that the professor sacrificed cool points for function.

"And yes, before you ask, the mask can be polarized. Check your uplink."

With that, the recording stopped. I poked an icon resembling the lens on the screen, and stared in awe as the clear panel changed to an opaque, reflective orange color.

I removed the mask after a few minutes of playing with the awesome features, and reentered the laboratory upon hearing the telltale sounds of Rosenthal's return.

"Hey, how was your trip to Geneva, Professor?"

The professor's eye seemed to dim slightly at this question. "Unsuccessful. I was unable to go past the front gate, unfortunately."

"Damn. Sorry, Professor, that really blows," I replied in an attempt to lighten the mood. "Thanks for the neat new stuff, it's pretty cool."

"You're most welcome, Aaron. Consider them housewarming gifts."

He suddenly pulled a brown paper bag from behind a bookshelf and reached inside, revealing an unopened bottle of fine wine. Reaching into the lab coat, he drew a Swiss army knife and used the integrated corkscrew to open the drink, which immediately filled the air with its strong aroma.

"Marvelous."

"Wait a second, Prof. I don't think getting drunk is a good idea with all of the, you know, explosive things lying around."

"Nonsense!" the professor suddenly exclaimed as he poured a glass. "I promised myself that I would drink this once my experiments succeeded. Crafted from ingredients grown in Mistralian vineyards, bottled in the winter cold of Atlas, and now it rests here, ready to be enjoyed!"

"Alright, whatever. You're an adult. Have fun getting wasted, Professor."

He took a sip and puckered tightly. "I must say, this is much stronger than the wines at home..."

"Old bastard. Who needs a working liver, anyway?"

I returned to my locker and checked the time.

1:35 PM.

"Jeez, that early? Wow."

Deciding that I needed to actually hone my combat skills before another Beowolf spotted my delicious flesh, I grabbed the M4 and my pistol, as well as a few magazines of ammunition, and walked outside to practice my marksmanship.

I practiced for what must have been several hours, researching techniques and familiarizing myself with the science of ballistics, but saw almost no improvement in my accuracy, which was definitely not a great thing for a guy living in a world with evil monsters everywhere and every other weapon was also a gun. I was reloading for another go at the still-intact target when I heard Ruby's voice behind me.

"Whatcha doin', Aaron?" she asked as she dashed over to my side, leaving a wave of rose petals in her wake.

"Target practice. Sadly, I still suck."

"Maybe I can help! Let me watch you."

I reluctantly accepted the offer and readied the rifle, feeling its weight press into my shoulder. I brushed a stray petal off of the gun and started to pull the trigger.

"Wrong. You haven't even zeroed your sights."

"That's a thing?" I asked, puzzled. Since when do guns need setup?

"Here, like this," she said, showing me how to adjust the holographic sight. "There. Now try it."

She handed the carbine back to me and watched as I got into firing stance. She critiqued that, too. After what felt like an eternity of adjustments, I finally pulled the trigger, and felt overwhelming achievement as a bullet hole appeared on the target's bullseye region.

To confirm that I was no longer the epitome of inaccuracy, I repeated twenty-nine more times. All of my shots hit somewhere on the target.

"There, now you have it! Great job!" Ruby cheered as she raised her hand for a high-five, which I promptly returned.

"Thanks for the help, Ruby. Seriously, I owe you one." I said, packing up.

"No problem! If you're hungry, you can come meet us for dinner."

"Okay. If you guys don't mind, I'll tag along, I guess," I said nervously. Even though it wasn't really a date, I had just been invited to dinner.

'Henry, you should see me now.'

 


	8. Chapter 8

I returned to the lab to stash my weapons and make myself presentable. It didn't take long for me to realize that I had no idea what I was doing. "Dinner" with the elusive alien beings known as "girls" was a new challenge, and with every challenge comes the inevitable panic associated with preparing for it. I didn't have any new clothes, so I just stuck with the standard attire I already had on.

"Alright, Carlyle. You can do this. Just a few waifu- I mean girls. Yeah, this'll be easy..."

I exited the lab and ventured out into the magnificent courtyard, taking a moment to marvel once again at the architecture student's wet dream better known as Beacon Academy. The show didn't do it justice.

"Animation budgets, why are you so low?" I asked silently. "Alright, now to go to the dorm."

I turned around and took a single step before a sudden realization hit me like a charging rhinoceros.

I had no idea where the dorms were.

"Damn. RT could've just posted a map, but nooo..."

I aimlessly wandered around the courtyard for a few minutes, but couldn't find any maps or signs that would be of any use in my mission. This was a problem that I had very little time to solve.

"Okay. Step One when lost...find authority figure. Let's do this."

A quick scan of the surroundings confirmed, to my dismay, that I was alone. Well, except for the single tumbleweed that decided to show up and taunt me. Damn comedic devices and their cheap timing.

"Seriously, they need to put in some map kiosks out here..."

I looked up at the moon and groaned. No waifu dorm invasion for me. Hell, it was going to be a miracle if I could even find a bathroom in this damn place.

"...Oh, Yatsuhashi? Yeah, he's SUCH a DREAM! Like, oh my gosh!"

My head instinctively snapped left toward the two school uniform-clad walking stereotypes that were currently leaving the main lecture hall. The other girl nodded her head in agreement, saying something about "those fine abs" or something to that effect. I looked down at my own torso and sighed in disappointment as I counted my slightly less "fine" ribs through my shirt.

Yeah, no picking up chicks tonight.

"C'mon, let's go up to the dorm. We can watch the new episode of Vytal Idol! I hear someone is getting voted off tonight..."

"Wait. Did they just say...dorm?" I thought as an amazing new plan dawned on me.

Follow the females to the dorms. Restraining orders couldn't be so bad, right?

I stared down at my wrist and poked some icons to make myself look busy as the girls walked casually past. The duo eventually stopped at an impressive-looking building and entered, allowing me to follow in unnoticed.

"Oh, middle school crush-evasion skills, your uses know no bounds."

I hung back and took cover behind a conveniently-placed vending machine as the two boarded the main elevator. One girl took her Scroll out of her purse and tapped it against the control panel as the doors slid shut with a low hiss.

A heavy breath escaped my mouth as I slinked out of the vending machine's shadow and advanced toward the elevator call button. The button depressed with a click, and after a few tense moments, the lift arrived.

"Okay… let's think here. Multiple floors, four grade levels… ah, fuck it, let's just press all of them."

Like a small child, I ran my hand across the entire panel and lit up every single button. Instead of going up, however, the lift merely produced a single beep and refused to do anything else as the panel screen prompted me for a student I.D.

"Let's see if this works."

I held my wrist against the panel and held my breath as it scanned my data.

**INVALID CREDENTIALS. PLEASE TRY AGAIN.**

"Okay then. Here goes..."

**INVALID CREDENTIALS. PLEASE TRY AGAIN.**

"Lame. Alright, time to phone a friend."

I tapped the small phone-shaped icon on my wrist unit and selected the one contact I currently had: Professor Emil Rosenthal, PhD. The "phone" rang three times before the call connected and Rosenthal's voice came through.

"M-Mister Carlyle, what do you require?" the professor said, his slurred speech tumbling out like spilled marbles.

"Professor? I need the dorm access codes-"

"Professor this! Professor t-that! It n-n-never stops! Y-you should get your o-own access codes f-for once- oh...oh dear..."

I facepalmed as the sounds of alcohol-induced vomiting came through my PDA. This was going to get me absolutely nowhere.

"You've got to be shitting me. I've got to go, Professor. I'll bring you back a ginger ale or something."

Before the drunken scientist could respond, I ended the call and started to probe around the panel for any structurally vulnerable pieces. While splicing into a piece of dangerous hardware was a horrible idea, I was pretty sure that I had nothing to lose considering my fairly poor life expectancy with monsters running around.

"Okay, now where did they put the fuse box on this thing..."

"...Do you need some help?"

"Oh, uh, nah. I'm goo-"

I turned toward my surprise guest and was stunned by what I saw. Golden Greek armor, crown/tiara/headpiece thing, vibrant scarlet hair, Grade-B Zettai Ryouiki if you're following Henry's train of thought...

Pyrrha Nikos.

"Uh...come in?" I half-asked, half-invited. The Spartan-like girl was standing in the elevator doorway with an awkward and clearly-forced smile that immediately told me that tampering with elevator electrical systems was probably not a socially acceptable practice. I stepped to the side to allow her into the elevator and silently thanked God for bringing someone with valid I.D. along.

"Are you going to the first-year floor as well?" she asked politely as she scanned her Scroll on the panel. I nodded "Yes" and the elevator started a moment later.

"So...you're Pyrrha Nikos, right?" I inquired. Though, in my over excited fanboy mind, it was sounding more like "OH MY GOD IT'S PYRRHA! PYRRHA PYRRHA PYRRHA"

"Yes...that's me," she responded, like she had been asked this question approximately ten thousand times before. That was probably because she had been asked this question approximately ten thousand times before.

"Oh man, this is SO cool. My best friend is a HUGE fan of yours. He has you set as his desktop backgrou-"

**DING**

The doors slid open smoothly, cutting my cringeworthy statement off. Then again, some things were best left unfinished.

"I didn't get your name," Pyrrha said as a friendly gesture before stepping out of the lift.

"OMG SHE WANTS MY NAME HENRY IS GONNA BE SO JEALOUS"

"Um...Aaron. Aaron Carlyle," I said, doing my best to resist my urge to get an autograph. Of course, I could then trade this autograph for Henry's PowerGlove...oh, bartering. Gotta love it.

"Well, it was nice to meet you, Aaron. Until next time."

She exited the lift and walked down the hall to one of the many unassuming doors and unlocked it with her Scroll. Since we had already said goodbye, I walked down the wrong hallway on purpose until the coast was clear to avoid any awkward happenings. After the JNPR door had been closed for a minute or two, I knocked three times on the adjacent door and prayed that it was the right one.

"Aaron! Glad you could make it!"

Miracles do happen after all.

"Hopefully slapping me in the face won't be necessary tonight, Yang," I replied.

"Hey, I said sorry! Not my fault that napping isn't allowed everywhere."

"You could say that this joke is becoming...a hit."

"Even I think that one's bad, String Cheese."

"You're really stringing the knocks on my physique ou-"

My entry-level puns were abruptly ended by another friendly slug in my arm, which conveniently hit the mark left by the last one. At this rate, it was going to be a miracle if I could lift my arms in the morning.

The bruiser moved aside and showed me into the famous room, complete with OSHA-unfriendly bunk beds and clashing tastes in decor.

"Hi, Aaron! We were just about to leave, so you made it just in time!" Ruby said from one of the top bunks. The ropes that held the bed up creaked under the strain as I tried to figure out how these things hadn't collapsed yet.

"So...what's for dinner?" I asked. "I'm starving over here."

"We wanted to go get pizza, but Weiss is being a stick in the mud," Yang complained as she showed me a small, colorful slip of paper. "We even have coupons!"

"Well, excuse me for caring about our team's health!" Weiss replied. "I think that hearty, nutritious salads would be a better choice, considering that we're moving on in the tournament."

Blake looked up from her Scroll and turned to me. "Aaron, what do you want to eat? You're our guest, so you can decide."

"Pizza!" Yang exclaimed, her fists pumped into the air like rockets.

"Salads!" Weiss countered.

I looked at both girls. Man, this was going to be a tough choice-

"Wait, can't you get a salad at the pizzeria?" I asked. Life was all about compromises, after all.

Weiss groaned in defeat, then muttered, "Fine. Let's go."

"Yeah, go Aaron!" Yang exclaimed, grabbing me yet again by my poor abused arm and dragging me out the door, presumably followed by the rest of the team.

* * *

After short Airbus ride, RWBY and I arrived in scenic downtown Vale. The night gave way to some spectacular city lights, and an impressive fireworks display lit up the sky with streaks of flashy reds and blues. It was much like a postcard.

Yeah, a postcard. "Hi fam, just chillin' with the RWBY crew. Wish you were here."

Since I had no idea where I was going, I made it a point to stay as close to the team as possible. Safety in numbers, after all.

"So, where are we going, Yang?" I asked as we walked. "Is it going to be one of those really crappy cheap pizza joints?"

"...Crappy pizza joint? CRAPPY PIZZA JOINT!?" Yang yelled suddenly as I jumped backwards, startled. The blonde reached into her jacket pocket and pulled out the crumpled coupon before pointing at the picture on the front. "This is no crappy pizza joint, Aaron. This is Perry's Pizza, the ultimate pizza shop with every single arcade game known to man!"

"...Well, most of them, anyway."

"Wait, this place is an arcade too?" I asked excitedly. I was starting to go into game withdrawal, so this place was a godsend.

"Yep! Skeeball, air hockey, things like that," Ruby chimed in as the pizza shop drew closer. The place was contained within an old-looking brick building covered in neon signs that reminded me strongly of a seedy pub.

Just my kind of place. Plus, greasy food and video games? Count me in!

"Here we are!" Yang announced. Deciding to use my good manners, I walked up and opened the door for the team as they filed into the restaurant one by one. The restaurant was filled with the muffled sound of jazz music and the profound scent of sizzling pepperoni pizza in the oven.

The bare brick walls were lined with an impressive variety of video game cabinets, each painted with vibrant art and begging for my quarters. The place was mostly empty except for the owner, who busily hopped around the kitchen from task to task.

In fact, I seriously half-expected Guy Fieri to come hurtling through the doors.

"Heeey! Yang! How's it goin'?" The owner yelled from the kitchen.

"Hey, Perry! How's business been?" Yang replied.

"Look around ya. Everyone's out at the festival, so things are pretty slow if you hadn't noticed. You want the usual tonight?"

The blonde gave Perry a casual thumbs-up, and he immediately started making "the usual" as we took our seats at a wooden raised table.

"Aaron! Wanna play some games?" Ruby asked with wide-eyed excitement.

"Are you kidding? Heck yes!" I replied as I followed the crimsonette to one of the many arcade cabinets. This particular one, a game called Skyranger, displayed a pixelated graphic of a Nevermore being pursued by a fighter jet-like craft. I wanted a poster already, and I hadn't even started the game yet.

"Have you ever played this game?" Ruby asked.

"Nah," I replied. "How do you play?"

"It's easy!" she said as she slid a quarter-Lien chip into the slot. The game started immediately, and wave after wave of Nevermore sprites formed a huge block formation the upper screen.

"Just press this button to shoot, and move the control stick to dodge the feathers. Simple, right?"

"Yeah. I think I've played something like this before," I said. "Mind if I go first?"

"Not at all!" Ruby replied, relinquishing control of the game to me. It played almost exactly like Galaga, and as Henry would tell you, I was damn good at Galaga. "Wow, you're really good at this, Aaron!"

I must have cleared at least twenty levels before our pizza finally arrived at the table. With a disappointed sigh, I stepped away from the game and allowed my tiny spaceship to explode under a barrage of Nevermore projectiles.

"That's one big pizza," Blake said, awestruck by the disc-shaped behemoth that was now covering our table.

"Are you sure we can eat all of this?" Weiss asked. That was a valid concern, considering that this pizza must've been at least two feet in diameter.

"Well, one way to find out," Yang said as she pulled a massive slice away. "Dig in!"

I pulled a slice from the pie and was surprised by the sheer scale of the piece. I needed both hands to support the weight of the melting cheese and piles of toppings. I was already approaching critical mass by the time I finished a single slice, and there were still many more to go.

By the time everyone had consumed two slices, Blake and Weiss were completely catatonic, Ruby had an absurdly-long cheese tendril hanging from the corner of her mouth, and Yang was still going strong somehow.

Meanwhile, I was pretty sure that I would violently explode and level two city blocks if I ate another slice.

"...Yang...how do you do this?" I asked, my head resting on the table.

"Practice. Lots and lots of practice," she replied. "I'm pretty full, though. You guys ready to go?"

No response.

"Okay, then. One groan means yes, two means no."

As the sound of a single united groan echoed across the table, I knew then and there that I was going to like it here.

That is, if I didn't have a heart attack from the twenty pounds of saturated fat I had just consumed.

* * *

It was a quiet night in the dorm. Just the way Cinder Fall preferred it.

For years, she had been lying this plan: recruiting followers to her cause, gaining resources, even going so far as to claim a portion of the Fall Maiden's power. Years of preparation had led up to the coming days, and a smirk crossed her face as the thought of it crossed her mind. She idly formed a small fireball in her hand as she examined a few Atlesian weapon designs on her Scroll.

**Alert: New Access Point Available.**

She snuffed the fireball out as the access point connection was established. Self-satisfaction filled her as this "Rosenthal" character's data was stolen, bit by bit and file by file. She opened a prominent-looking directory, and her eyes widened as she looked over the contents within.

Environmental data, radiation charts, technical specifications, power requirements. A sea of numbers that were all connected to somewhere called "Earth."

"Interesting..."

She minimized the tab and hastily placed the Scroll up to her ear as her eyes lit up with devious inspiration.

"Get Adam on the line. I have something that he will want to see."


End file.
